by Tl Reeve
“This place is crazy, Mommy,” Bell stated. “We should go somewhere else.”
“That’s because there is an art exhibit and event going on. Plus, this is Window Rock’s busy time of the year. We’ll be fine.” Jasmine squeezed Bell’s shoulder. “Look, the line is moving fairly quickly.”
Bell frowned. “I just don’t get it.”
“You’re not supposed to,” Zoe said. “We’re kids.”
Jasmine laughed. “Yes, you are.” They inched closer to the counter. “How about when we’re done here, we go check out the art work?”
“Okay, Mommy,” Bell said.
Once they were at the counter, Jasmine gave their order. Two berry splashes for the girls, and she grabbed an iced coffee for herself. With nowhere to sit to enjoy their drink, they took it with them, and since the art exhibit was only a few blocks from YoJo, Jasmine decided it would do them good to walk. She’d done a little exploring since they first arrived, but not so much to qualify as knowing where she was going. However, it didn’t discourage her. If they were going to make Window Rock their home, she and the girls needed to learn everything they could and become familiar with their surroundings.
The shop doors were all open. The sidewalks were a bit crowded, but not enough to deter from the friendly atmosphere of their small community. Zoe and Bell walked next to her, holding each other’s hands while they sipped on their beverages. This was what they needed to feel a bit more human after everything they’d been through and were currently going through.
They came upon the small gallery with a welcome sign out front, encouraging everyone to step inside. On the door of the business was a small sticker announcing it as a proud sponsor and participant of the art show. The two windows facing the sidewalk were filled with Navajo art. Some scenes depicted the Grand Canyon. Others were landscapes of the desert caught in the middle of sunrises or sunsets. The vibrant reds, pinks, purples, and oranges jumped off the canvases, drawing people in.
“Should we go in?” Jasmine glanced down at the girls.
Both nodded, their eyes transfixed on the Navajo warrior sitting upon his horse on a cliff, staring out at the sunset. She couldn’t blame them. The details were amazing. Jasmine half expected the man to turn his face to them and start speaking. She wondered if she stared at it long enough if even the sage brush would begin to sway in the soft breeze or if the horse would twitch its tail to shoo away insects that might get too close.
They walked into the gallery a little wide-eyed as more of the paintings caught their attention. In the middle of the store sat a desk. A woman stood behind it enjoying, from what Jasmine could tell, an animated conversation with another patron. In the woman’s hands was a wrapped painting about the size of Bell, Jasmine believed.
“These are amazing,” Zoe whispered. “A lot of work too.”
Jasmine agreed. Whoever the artist was, had quite the talent. “They are. I don’t think I could choose just one.”
“Good morning,” a cheerful woman said. “Welcome to Tinks.”
Jasmine turned and smiled. The woman who had been talking to the customer greeted them. She had long curly wheat-colored hair with pink, purple, and blue streaks. Her honey-colored eyes were bright and cheerful. She exuded happiness and joy. Heck, she even smelled like it. Her clothes were billowy, kind of eccentric, like the person who wore them.
“Hi, thanks,” Jasmine said, with a smile. “This stuff is amazing.”
The woman blushed a bit. “Thank you. It’s a passion that pays the bills.” Her tinkled laughter warmed Jasmine.
“They’re yours?” Zoe said, a bit surprised.
“Yes,” the woman answered. “I’m Tinks.”
“I love your name,” Bell said. “It’s pretty.”
“Awe,” Tinks said. “What’s yours?”
“Bell. But it’s not spelled like the fairy tale Belle.”
“Well, Bell, not-spelled-like-the-fairy-tale. I like your name too,” Tinks replied. “Would you like a bit of a tour?”
“We’d love it,” Jasmine said. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.”
The girl smiled. “Don’t worry.”
For an hour, they walked around the small gallery looking at the different paintings Tinks created. When Jasmine told her a bit about herself, Tinks became more animated. She told Jasmine about the mural she painted in the orphanage and how she too at one time had been an orphan with her sister. They lived with Mrs. Martin for a time, but then moved out, not wanting to be a burden to the Martins, especially since Russell was so sick.
They talked about Window Rock, and her...well, Tinks hadn’t been able to properly say what Jordan was to her, other than she raised him and when his brother showed up with his mate one day, she and Sayer took care of Jordan together. Jasmine felt bad for Tinks. Besides her sister, in reality, she was alone. Yet, the girl had made her life in Window Rock.
Jasmine hated to admit it, but there were more orphans in the shifter community than she liked to think about. She understood pack and Pride politics, she understood humans who were cruel, but what did innocent babies ever do to deserve being left on the side of the road, or like in Aiden’s case, almost killed?
“When I opened my gallery, I wasn’t sure if it would work in such a small town,” Tinks said, drawing Jasmine’s attention back to the woman. “But, I’ve been here fifteen years now. Kalkin is an amazing Alpha, and he’s done more for our community since he became Sheriff than anyone else has.”
“Kalkin is something,” Jasmine said.
Tinks laughed. “He sure is. He’s met his match with his mate though.”
“Keeley is...” What was the word Jasmine had been looking for?
“Hell on wheels,” Tinks supplied. “That woman will grab him by the balls and doesn’t care who sees it.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I’ve witnessed it a couple of times since arriving here.”
“You’re new,” Tinks said. “All of you. I’m pretty good with faces.”
Jasmine nodded. “We’ve been here for a few weeks. Rapier is my mate.”
Tinks eyes went wide. “He’s such an asshole.” She covered her mouth as a pink tinge colored her cheeks. “Sorry. I’ve seen him and his brothers around town. He always carries a twenty-five-pound chip on his shoulder.”
Jasmine laughed. She described Rapier perfectly. “Yeah, he does. He’s a no-nonsense kind of guy. Plus, he wouldn’t be Alpha if he wasn’t.”
The girl nodded. “Well, welcome to Window Rock.”
* * * *
Jasmine grabbed a flyer off of Tinks’ counter after she waved goodbye to their new friend. The map showed where the rest of the exhibits were housed, and if Tinks’ place was any indication of the rest, Window Rock was full of amazing artists. They’d spent a good amount of time with Tinks, getting to know the woman and her work. Jasmine liked her. She was friendly, talented, and didn’t mince words. That bluntness had been welcoming. About the only people she got it from were her mate and Jenna, and more Jenna before they arrived there.
As they started down the sidewalk, Jasmine noticed an older woman sitting outside another small store. She had a table in front of her with different little knick-knacks laid about. Her greying hair had been pulled back into a severe bun and her hawkish gaze disturbed and intrigued Jasmine. The woman glanced back down at her knitting before staring at the girls once more—most specifically, Bell.
Warning bells went off at the back of Jasmine’s mind. The rational side of her brain told the irrational part to relax. It was obvious if she owned a store in town, the woman was friendly. She doubted very much if Kalkin would allow the enemy to make money off of his pack members. As they approached the table the woman smiled in greeting. However, the expression didn’t reach the woman’s aged brown eyes.
“Hello,” the woman said. “Wonderful day we’re having, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Bell said, taking in all the cute little items on the table. “Did you make all o
f this?”
The woman nodded. “I did. It’s not very often a young person such as yourself appreciates good, hard work.”
The woman’s words were kind and approving but something was off about her. Her focus stayed on Bell. Her body was tense, as though she was ready to spring out of her chair and take Bell. Again, those stupid warning bells went off in the back of Jasmine’s head. They wanted her to run. Run as fast and hard as she could until she returned to the safety of her home, out of arms’ length from the elder woman. Maybe you’re not over your issues, like you thought you were. It made sense. The first time she felt safe in a long time got blown to hell when Rapier told her about Raymond. Now, she returned to her jumpy self, going so far, she suspected, of being startled by her shadow.
“What are you making now?” Zoe asked, stepping forward a little.
The woman kept her gaze on Bell. “This will be a scarf when it’s done. Winters around here can be quite chilly. I like to give them away to those who might need them the most.”
Her words were meant to relax them. Instead, the intense need to get away rushed through Jasmine once more. This time she didn’t ignore it or push it aside. She grabbed the girls’ hands and smiled. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with my daughters.”
“They are adorable. Be a pity if something should happen,” the older woman said.
Had Jasmine heard her right? “What?”
“I said they’re adorable, dear. I bet they are a handful on a bad day.” The woman grinned.
“We are,” Zoe said. “We like to keep our mom and pops on their toes.”
The woman laughed. “I can tell.”
Jasmine turned the girls. “Come on, let’s go find your father.”
“But, he’s at work, Mommy,” Bell said, glancing back at one of the small crocheted animals on the table.
“Well, we’ll have lunch with him.” Jasmine pushed through the crowd and headed back in the direction of where she parked the truck. Her heart hammered. Her lungs ached for breath. She hadn’t realized she was shaking until they were in front of Tinks’ gallery once more and away from the woman.
“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Bell stared up at her with fear-filled blue eyes. “Did we do something bad?”
“No, sweetheart, you didn’t.” Jasmine pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “I’m going to call Daddy.” She scrolled through the contacts then hit send.
Rapier answered on the first ring. “Kitten? Everything okay?”
They continued through the crowd until she stopped short. The side of the truck had been spray painted with You’re Next. Bile rose in the back of her throat. “Help us.” She tried to take several deep breaths to steady here; however, between the woman at the shop and now this, she was going to lose it.
“Kitten, listen to me. You need to tell me where you are.” Rapier’s gruff voice pulled her out of the black void.
“Near YoJo. Hurry, Rapier. I don’t think I can keep the girls from seeing this.” She pulled the phone away from her ear and took a picture of the truck then hit send. “This is worse than we thought.”
“Jasmine, girls,” Mrs. Martin said. “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes. Why don’t you join me at the shop, and we’ll have tea and cookies?”
“Go with her, Jasmine,” Rapier said. “I’m on my way. Mrs. Martin will protect you. I promise.”
“Can we, Momma?” Zoe said, tugging at the hem of her shirt.
“Please, Mommy? We really like Mrs. Martin’s shop,” Bell added.
“It’s okay, kitten. Hang up with me and go with the girls,” Rapier murmured.
“Okay,” she said, her voice cracking as she hung up. “Let’s go with Mrs. Martin.”
* * * *
Rapier had barely kept his shit together as he drove like a bat out of hell toward town. Specifically, Mrs. Martin’s shop. He’d already called Kalkin, yelling at him about the state of his truck and Jasmine’s condition. Kalkin had been contrite and didn’t give him any shit before Rapier hung up on him, mid-conversation.
His sole focus was getting to his girls.
He spotted the truck Jasmine had driven into town. She’d parked right out on the road, in the center of town. He suspected because it was close to YoJo’s front door. People milled around, coming in and out of shops without a care in the world. Traffic had been heavy, but it’d been expected since the art show was going on.
Whoever had vandalized the truck was a ballsy fuck. Doing it out in broad daylight. During mid-day. Chances were, a young kid had been paid, or tortured to do it. Rapier didn’t give a fuck which it’d been, they’d fucked with the wrong family. He knew without even having to be told, Raymond Quincy was behind this shit show.
Motherfucker.
Rapier was done with the slimy bastard. If he ever came face to face with the other man, he’d choke the shit out of him for scaring Rapier’s mate and cubs. He didn’t give a shit what his mate or Kalkin Raferty had to say about it either.
Rapier slammed on the brakes, double parking his massive work truck beside his mates. He ignored the horns of the frustrated drivers behind him as he jumped out of his still running vehicle and hauled ass to Mrs. Martin’s store.
His found Jasmine through the glass. She was standing next to Mrs. Martin with Bell tucked beside her. Her face was pale, and her lips were trembling. He’d already spotted his dark-haired little pixie, Zoe, peering at him from behind the register. The fear he saw in his spunky cub’s blue gaze had his guts twisting.
“Rapier,” Kalkin yelled out. “Wait.”
Fuck that. His family needed him. Rapier ignored Kalkin’s demand. Instead, he pushed open the heavy glass door. The bell tinkled to announce his presence. Jasmine’s worried-filled hazel eyes found him.
“Daddy,” Bell hollered before throwing himself into his arms.
He held her tiny little body close. His lion pushed to the surface. He didn’t give a flying fuck. His focus had been on his mate and cubs. The lion sniffed at Bell, reassuring himself his cub was okay.
The bell rang behind him. Kalkin loomed behind him. The anger radiating off the surly Sheriff didn’t faze Rapier. He had what he wanted. His family.
“Fuck, Rapier,” Kalkin growled. “I told you to wait.”
“Oh, you shush, Kalkin Raferty,” Mrs. Martin reprimanded her adopted son. “Let the man comfort his mate and cubs for a second before you do your job. You’d be no different with Keeley or your pups.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kalkin said, his voice remorseful.
If Rapier wasn’t in his own personal hell right now, he’d tease the other man. He placed Bell down on her feet, then whispered in her ear to go stand with Zoe. His cub scampering off as if nothing life altering had even occurred, even though it had.
Holding his arms out, he called to his mate, who had been so strong the last ten years without him. “Kitten.”
Tears welled in her eyes before rolling down her cheek. The moment she threw herself into his arms, he understood all of it went much deeper than a damaged truck. When she calmed down, he’d find out. He allowed the comforting purrs from deep inside his chest to fill the room.
“Shh, Kitten,” he murmured while rubbing her back in a circular motion in an attempt to ease the sobs and shake of her delicate body. “I’ve got you, baby. Nothing or no one is going to hurt you or the girls. Kal’s here too.”
She continued to sob into the crook of his neck, her legs wrapped around his waist as he just held her.
“Rapier,” Kalkin said.
His glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I’ve got the girls. Jace is going to take them to the compound.” The compound meant Kalkin Raferty’s home.
Rapier nodded, and he watched as the wolf left the store with his cubs. “Come on, baby, pull yourself together. We need to figure this out.” He kissed her temple and could taste the warm saltiness of her tears. It killed him and his lion, who was pacing and hissing inside of his head.
&
nbsp; That crazy fucker wanted to shift, in an attempt to catch the scent of whoever spray painted the truck and then play a game of cat and mouse with the perpetrator. Problem was, Jasmine had been in his arms, and he didn’t want to let go of her.
“A cup of hot tea might help settle her nerves,” Mrs. Martin said before disappearing behind a curtain.
He could hear her continued mutterings to herself about finding the perfect blend. A shot of tequila would be just as effective, but he knew better than to argue with the pack elder. She may look sweet, and grandmotherly, but Rapier knew steel ran through her spine and she’d just as quickly smack him on the back of the head as offer him one of her famous homemade cookies.
It wasn’t until Mrs. Martin came back to the front of the store carrying the daintiest cup Rapier had ever seen that Jasmine had stopped shaking. White puffs of steam floated from the top of the cup, and the scent of chamomile and something else he couldn’t place filled the air.
“Drink this. It’s hot and sweet,” the pack elder said before handing Jasmine the cup and two of her cookies. “I put a shot of whiskey in it. So, drink up.”
Jasmine took a tentative sip and sighed. “Thank you.” It seemed to comfort Jasmine, and she quietly sipped at her tea as he held her, purring the entire time.
“Too bad the wolves can’t do your neat little trick,” Mrs. Martin commented.
Rapier glanced up at her, confused. “What?”
“The purring, Rapier. It’s very comforting.”
“You need me to purr for you, Mrs. Martin, all you gotta do is ask.” Rapier winked at her and smiled when her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment.
“She might have an issue with it.” Mrs. Martin nodded to his mate.
“I wouldn’t,” Jasmine piped up.
